Posts Tagged nc

here are some pictures i recently shot for kitty hawk kites in the outer banks of north carolina. kitty hawk kites is kind of an amazing operation. they have a bunch of retail stores and provide a laundry list of activities, tours and adventures. wanna buy a superbad kite (or a cute ladybug kite for your kid)? no problem. wanna go kayaking? got it. wanna go jet-skiing? yep. wanna see some dolphins or wild horses? uh huh. wanna fly over 2,000 ft. in the air on a hang glider? easy greasy.

like a glove

me power kiting on jockey’s ridge

me power kiting on jockey’s ridge

i had my little brother drive up and assist me on this job. when we were done, my brother wanted to come to nyc for a while, so i rented a car and we drove back together. after the long drive, i didn’t want to deal with nyc parking. when i saw this parking spot only a block away from my apartment, i went in for the kill. about halfway through the 96-point-turn, a guy walking by on the sidewalk said, “ain’t no way in hell you’re gettin in that spot.” guess he didn’t know how tired i was.

legend has it that blackbeard, stede bonnet and the likes would hang in the marshes of north carolina waiting to attack ships. if the merchant ships were lucky enough to see the top sail of a pirate ship peeking over the tops of the live oak trees, they’d hightail it to safety. i spent a lot of time at topsail beach as a kid during the summers. never saw any pirates, but i got ambushed by an angry crab one time. i was walking in a foot or so of water and it locked onto my toe; i screamed like a girl, flung my foot out of the water and ol’ captain pinchy fingers went flying through the air as i hightailed it back to mama and cried. oh, by the way — topsail isn’t pronounced “top-sail.” it’s “tops’l.” if you go there and call it “top-sail” the locals will roll their eyes and think you’re an idiot as they gladly accept your yankee dollars.

i’ve never tasted a better biscuit. ever. when i’m at grandma’s for supper i always stop eating when i’m about half-full so i’ll have room enough for 3 or 4 of these bad boys, each with a big glob of homemade strawberry freezer jam.

this stinky bunch of rascals is my niece and nephews. they’re all fueled by goat milk. it’s pretty tolerable to get puked on by babies, but not if they’ve been drinkin goat milk. one day one of em hacked up on the bottom of my jeans, and i kind of ignored it. a few hours later i was like, “dude, WHAT is that SMELL?” and i couldn’t figure it out. every now and then i’d get a whiff of a smell that would almost curl my toenails, and i kept looking around to try and find it. another hour or so later, in some golden glance of inspiration, my eyes got big like quarters and i sat up straight and thought, “oh, no – my jeans.” i bent down to take a whiff and it was like a mangy, wet goat found it’s way to my legs about three weeks earlier, got nice and comfy, curled up and died. that stuff could make a vulture gag.